


No More Next Times

by MCRmyGeneral



Series: Phone Calls and Promises [3]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Courtroom Drama, Divorce, Engagement, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Growing Up, Inmate Milkovich, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Moving In Together, Multi, One Big Happy Family, Prison, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-28 13:53:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10108970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MCRmyGeneral/pseuds/MCRmyGeneral
Summary: Together, apart. Together, apart. It's a running theme in Ian and Mickey's relationship. But together only means so much when you're a fugitive. Mickey needs to leave again, but not before he promises that this will be their last time apart.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Here we are; the final installment! Until Next Time was meant to be a one-shot, but then people were asking me to write a sequel, so I did. And then I wasn't satisfied with where the story ended, so I needed to wrap it all up. Thank you to everyone that asked me to continue this story, and as always, thank you to everyone that drops Kudos and comments. You guys are amazing!

Ian sat at the kitchen table, rubbing his hands together and bouncing his leg. Fiona was late.

“Hey, sweetface,” She called as she walked through the front door, a large stack of papers in her hand, most likely payroll or new hire applications. “What was so important that I needed to rush home?” She asked, a little out of breath. She was careful to keep her face neutral. Ian knew that she assumed this was a bipolar thing, like he’d flushed his meds again or stolen some other baby.

He swallowed. “Sit.”

Fiona did as she was told, tossing her coat on the couch and pouring herself a cup of coffee before settling down across the table from him. She reached a hand out, which Ian took gratefully.

“What’s going on, Ian?” She asked, worry written all over her face in the form of creases and fine lines.

Ian sighed. “I’ve been talking to Mickey.”

Fiona puckered her mouth. “I figured.”

“You did?”

“Doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. You’ve been happier these last few months than you have in the last two years. You thought we wouldn’t notice? Nothing’s ever made you smile like you have been lately. Nothing but Mickey.”

Ian blushed, and Fiona smirked at him.

“There,” She said, pointing a finger at him, “ _That_ smile,” She teased, and Ian’s cheeks grew even warmer. “I’ve never seen you smile like that unless Mickey was involved. And you’ve been smiling like that for weeks.”

“I-”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Ian. As unhappy as I am about you withholding information from the police, I’m glad that you and Mickey are talking again. Things ended so tense with you two. I know that you have your issues, but deep down, I think you guys are good for each other.”

Ian smiled, then frowned. “Remember that in about fifteen seconds," He warned.

Fiona’s face turned wary. “Why?”

“I know where he is.”

She clenched her jaw. “Okay,” She said warily.

“He’s here, in Chicago. On the South Side.”

Fiona’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “How long has he been here?”

“Couple days.”

“Have you gone to see him?”

Ian didn’t need to answer. The look on his face was enough.

Fiona shot up from her chair, ripping her hand from Ian’s. “ _Jesus_ , Ian! This just went from withholding information to harboring a fugitive! Are you crazy?”

“I mean, technically,” Ian said nonchalantly, with a small shrug. Fiona tried to shoot him a dirty look, but she was smiling beneath it. She sat back down.

“Where is he?” She asked with a sigh.

Ian pursed his lips and looked away, and Fiona pinched him.

“Ow!” He yelped, rubbing his arm.

“I’m not gonna fucking narc him out! I just…” She blew out a breath, and Ian nodded.

“Right now, he’s staying at the apartment above the Alibi.”

“What’s he gonna do?”

Ian shrugged. “We haven’t really figured it out yet.”

“ _We_?”

Ian nodded. “We’re making the decision together. Try to stay here, go back to prison, or run.”

Fiona looked down at the table as Ian spoke, running a hand through her hair. Ian sighed.

“I’m letting you know now, Fi, if he wants to run, I’m going with him.”

Fiona’s head shot up. She looked angry, sad and sympathetic, all at the same time.

“I can’t abandon him again,” Ian whispered. “I won’t let myself.”

Fiona nodded reluctantly and tilted her head back and forth, internally debating with herself. After a moment, there was a clear victor, and she straightened in her seat.

“Bring him here.”

Ian’s breath caught in his chest. Fiona had this knack of reading his mind, and right now, he was grateful for it. He lunged forward and hugged his sister.

“Just for a week. You have until next Thursday to figure out what you’re gonna do. I understand that he’s family, and you need him, but I don’t want you putting us all in any more danger than you already have.”

Ian nodded and pulled back. “Thank you, Fi. Thank you!”

Fiona rolled her eyes, but inside, she smiled. She was happy that Mickey would be back, even if just for a while. She missed him, if she was admitting it to herself. She knew Debbie and Liam did, too. Mickey was family, as much as she tried to deny it.

She was looking forward to having her family back in one piece.

****

“Mickey!” Debbie squealed when she walked down the stairs the next morning, baby in hand. Her scream woke the baby, who started wailing in response.

Mickey jumped at the volume and allowed himself to be awkwardly but fiercely pulling into a one-armed hug. He ruffled Debbie’s hair.

“Jesus, Debbie, relax. It’s just _Mickey_ ,” Fiona joked, and Mickey glared at her, though it was without meaning. “And can you shut that thing off?” She nodded at the baby. Debbie ignored her.

“Hey, squirt,” Mickey said affectionately as he hugged Debbie, and she beamed at him.

“What are you doing here?”

“Just couldn’t stay away,” He joked, winking at Ian, who tried to hide his blush behind his coffee cup.

“I thought you were in prison? Or I guess, _out_ of prison. On the run?” She pieced it all together, furrowing her brow.

“Don’t think too hard; you’ll set the house on fire, Carrie,” Mickey teased. “I am technically wanted right now. I’m only here for a while, while I figure out my next move," He explained.

Debbie seemed satisfied with that answer, smiling brightly at the boy.

He nodded toward the bundle of blankets in Debbie’s arms. “You got a kid?” Mickey asked with a cocked eyebrow.

Debbie nodded proudly. “Franny. She’s about nine months old. You wanna hold her?”

Mickey’s eyes widened in horror, and he took a step away. “Oh, I don’t think I should. I’d probably drop her.”

“You won’t _drop her_ ,” Debbie argued, rolling her eyes.

“You never dropped Yevgeny,” Ian added, which earned him a dirty look from Mickey.

“What’s the matter, Milkovich? Scared of a crying baby?” Fiona taunted.

Mickey narrowed his eyes, never one to back down from a challenge. “Gimme the kid,” He said firmly, holding his arms out as a cradle for the infant. Debbie smiled and softly handed Franny over to Mickey, who did recoil initially at the screeching. But he kept his face serene, and gently bounced the baby, whose screams softened considerably. She was still fussing, but significantly quieter. Three mouths smiled at the boy with the baby, awe-struck. This was the closest to quiet Franny had gotten since she was brought home.

But Mickey wasn’t satisfied. He started swaying back and forth, shooting Ian a self-conscious glance before he opened his mouth and started singing. His voice was cracked and the notes were flat, but Ian’s jaw still dropped in amazement. He’d never heard anything like it before in his life.

“ _Hoy̆da, hoy̆da-hoy̆, nichenʹka ide, Ditochok malykh spatonʹky klade. Pid viknom tremtytʹ vyshenʹka mala, V khatku prosytʹsya, bo pryy̆shla zyma,_ ” Mickey sang softly, very aware of the people around him. Franny quieted down her fussing, instead cooing up at the unfamiliar face.

“Mick,” Ian said softly, walking over and setting a hand on Mickey’s shoulder. Mickey smiled proudly at him and handed the child back to Debbie. “What was _that_?” Ian asked, and Mickey shrugged.

“Just an old Ukrainian lullaby.”

“I didn't know you spoke Ukrainian. I've never heard you speak it before,” Ian said in awe.

Mickey shrugged. “I don't know much. I honestly don't even know what the lyrics are in English,” He admitted, rubbing his neck nervously. “Mostly I just know some swearing I picked up from Terry and the cutesy pet names my mom would call us kids. She used to sing it. Not to me and Iggy, cuz Terry always said that lullabies were for girls. But she used to sing it to Mandy to get her to go to sleep. I remember being three years old and pressing my ear to the door to listen.”

The look on Ian’s face was half-affection, half-sadness. Mickey’s knees shook under the weight of his eyes. He cleared his throat and deliberately changed the subject.

“You should find an Irish lullaby to sing to her. What about the dad? What nationality is he?”

Debbie’s face scrunched slightly. “He’s Mexican.”

“Lots of Mexican lullabies. He should teach you some.”

She grimaced, and Fiona rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly. Mickey looked at Ian. “What?” He asked, clearly missing something.

“Kid split,” Ian confessed angrily. “Left when Debs told him she was pregnant. We think he went down south to his extended family.”

Mickey’s ears got red. If there was one thing he’d learned from everything with Svet and Yev, it was that you handled your shit, and took care of your family, however you defined ‘family’.

He cracked a few menacing knuckles. “Let’s you and me take a road trip,” He said to Debbie with a wink, which made her crack a smile. “I’m good at finding things that are lost, like this kid that obviously lost his fucking mind when he decided to run out on my family.”

Debbie’s smile turned into a full-fledged grin. Ian and Fiona shared a meaningful look behind Mickey’s back, both smiling at the fact that Mickey had just referred to the Gallaghers as his family.

“There's about 18 to 22 _very_ good reasons why you shouldn't do that,” Ian reminded Mickey, who glared at him.

“Thanks, Mick, but I think I’m better off,” Debbie said, nodding. “I have more than enough help without him.”

“Damn straight, you’re better off,” He said with an affectionate smile, pulling Debbie in for another hug, mindful of the baby in her arms.

Ian leaned against the wall, watching Mickey play with Franny, his mind doing somersaults. Everything was going so well, aside from the whole Mickey-being-on-the-run-from-the-Feds thing. Ian was properly medicated, no more highs and lows; Terry was long gone, having been stabbed to death in prison the year prior for backing out of a drug deal; everyone was happy with Mickey being around again; his and Ian’s relationship had never been stronger. Everything was back to normal, the way it should have been, before Ian had his breakdown, before Mickey tried to kill his half-sister, before he was thrown in, then busted out of, prison. This was where their life together had always been headed. But like all good things in Ian’s life, he knew it had to end. Gallaghers, as a rule, could never be too happy for long. Whatever higher power sat up in the sky just wouldn’t allow it.

They had three options: hide here, run away, or turn Mickey in. Ian hated the lump that settled in his stomach whenever he thought about any of those. He knew that hiding here, in plain sight was by far the stupidest choice. So in reality, it was either run or confess. He knew that no matter what they chose, he’d be hurt, torn between his family and the love of his life. He couldn’t have both.

Ian forcibly pushed those thoughts about what the next day, or even week held for him, Mickey and the rest of _their_ family. Instead, he pulled a smile onto his face and joined Mickey and Fiona on the couch, where his boyfriend was bouncing his niece on his knee. He had everything he needed right here, right now. Those big important decisions could wait.

****

“I’m not pulling you away from your family again,” Mickey said softly that night as he and Ian came down from their orgasms.

Ian frowned. “What do you mean?”

Mickey sighed. “You have a niece now. Debbie needs help, you got a job, Fi’s doing real good at the diner. Everything’s going well. I can’t tear you away from this.”

“Mickey,” Ian said gently, sitting up and letting his sheet fall around his waist. “What are you saying?”

Tears gathered in Mickey’s eyes as he sat up, too. “You can’t leave. I won’t let you.”

Ian’s face hardened. “Don’t even try it, Mickey. You can’t keep me away from you.”

“The hell I can’t.”

“You try to skip without me, and I _promise_ you, I will find you,” Ian said fiercely, and Mickey recoiled. He had forgotten how intimidating (though he’d never admit it) Ian could be when he slipped into Sergeant Gallagher mode. “I’m not letting you leave alone, not again.”

“That’s not what I was talking about.”

Ian’s body tensed. “What were you talking about, then?”

Mickey looked up from his tattooed knuckles, eyes wet. “I gotta go back.”

Instantly, Ian’s eyes were watering, too. He knew that this was their best option, but it was also the one that hurt the most. “Mick…”

“I have to. It makes the most sense. At least we’ll still see each other. You can visit every week. Eventually they’ll even let us sit out in the visiting area. I can keep in touch with everyone, I’ll put them all on my visitation list. Even Lip,” He said with a chuckle, and it wasn’t until Ian laughed that he realized that the tears had slipped down his cheeks. Mickey leaned forward to wipe his boyfriend’s face.

“Hey now, stop that. It’s gonna be hard, Ian, but it’s been you and me against the world for years now, and it ain’t gonna stop now. I need you to be strong for me.”

Ian nodded, leaning in to Mickey’s hand where it had stilled on his cheek. “I can be. I will be. I promise, Mickey.”

Mickey smiled at Ian, all pride and affection, and he leaned forward to capture Ian’s lips in a warm kiss. Ian sank back down onto the bed, and Mickey followed.

“I love you so much, Ian,” Mickey whispered to his boyfriend in the dark.

Ian sniffled and wrapped his arms around Mickey’s waist, holding him tightly. “I love you, too, Mickey. We’ll make it,” He said softly when he felt Mickey shaking, either from fear or tears. “We’ll make it, I promise,” Ian repeated, chanting it softly in Mickey’s ear until Mickey finally relaxed. His body loosened and his breathing evened out.

Ian kissed his shoulder.

“We’re gonna make it, Mickey,” He said to himself, staring out the window above his bed to the bright moon above them. “I promise,” He said, as much to himself as to Mickey.

****

The air was thick, anxiety and sadness like fog cushioning the living room where five bodies sat, ten eyes on the verge of tears at any moment.

Mickey took a deep breath. “I guess I- _oof_!” He huffed when Debbie launched herself at him.

He hugged Debbie fiercely, tighter when she started shaking.

“Stop that. You can visit me whenever you want, Debs. You can even bring Franny eventually.”

Debbie pulled back and smiled sadly up at Mickey. “I was planning on it. She's gotta know her Uncle Mickey.”

Mickey blushed, and it made Ian's heart warm to hear him referred to as ‘Uncle Mickey’.

Debbie squeezed him one last time and backed away, giving Fiona room to hug him.

“Be good,” She whispered in his ear, so that nobody else could hear her, “We need you. Ian needs you.”

Mickey nodded, a lump forming in his throat.

Fi kissed Mickey's cheek as she stepped out of the hug, and he smiled softly.

Liam was next. Mickey dropped down to one knee to hug the kid.

“Mickey!” He squealed happily. Mickey chuckled. He stood and absentmindedly ran a hand through Liam's hair, looking at Ian.

His stomach twisted and churned at this picture. Ian looked vacant, like he'd never seen light before. The last time Mickey had seen him like this was when he was walking down a sterile hallway toward the psych ward. The memory made him almost gag. His lip started shaking.

“Ian.”

Ian zipped up his hoodie. “Let's go,” He said matter-of-factly.

Mickey cocked an eyebrow. “What?”

“Let's go.”

Mickey shook his head. “No, Ian, I-”

“I'm not letting you go alone. This isn't open for discussion.”

“You're not comin’,” Mickey said firmly, and Ian shrugged in defiance.

“Stop me,” He said.

“Ian, I really don't thi-”

“Butt out, Fi.”

“You're narcing yourself out if you come with. There's no way you can deny withholding information.”

“I'll say you just got here.”

Mickey shook his head. “Please stop being stubborn.”

“No! I'm not letting you go alone!” Ian repeated.

“You're _not_ coming!”

“Why not?” Ian roared.

“Because I-” Mickey cut himself off and rubbed a hand over his face. The look he was wearing softened, as did Ian's. “Because it's our last moments _together_ for a long time, and I don't wanna spend them in the lobby of a police station. I don't want the last time I touch you to be in a fuckin’ cop shop, okay? Sue me,” He spat.

Ian grimaced. He thought he could be strong through this, but it was a stupid thought.

“Mickey,” He whimpered, and Mickey's eyes filled with tears.

 _Ian_ , Mickey tried to speak, but no sound left his mouth. It was all caught in his throat.

Ian rushed forward and wrapped his arms around Mickey firmly. He splayed his hands over the muscles in Mickey's back and closed them, grabbing handfuls of Mickey's shirt. Mickey wound one arm around Ian's back and the other came up over his shoulder, his hand diving into Ian's hair. He buried his face in Ian's shoulder, and Ian nestled his in the crook of Mickey's neck.

Mickey closed his eyes and inhaled until his lungs ached, hoping to hold the memory of Ian's scent for as long as possible. His neck was damp suddenly, wet from Ian's tears. He opened his eyes for just a second, and was relieved to see that Debbie and Fiona had gone upstairs, trying to give them privacy. Mickey closed his eyes again, softly massaging the tips of his fingers against Ian's scalp. Ian inhaled a shuddering breath.

“I love you so much, Ian,” Mickey whispered against his skin, tears soaking his shirt. “God, I'm so sorry for everything,” He sniffled, “For putting you through this again and again. I hate saying goodbye to you,” He confessed, his voice cracking.

Ian squeezed his eyes shut even harder. He let his fingers run over Mickey's neck. 

“It's not forever, Mickey,” Ian reminded him softly, though he knew it was gonna feel like a lifetime and more. He already hurt just knowing Mickey was leaving. “I love you. I fucking love you Mickey, more than anything else,” Ian sobbed, his whole body shaking.

Mickey drew in a deep breath and stepped away, though it made his bones ache. He let his hands drag over Ian's skin until he was cupping Ian's face, and Ian's hands were on his shoulders.

The boys met in a long, slow, wet, salty kiss. When they parted, they were both shaking like they'd had too much sugar.

“God, this sucks,” Ian sniffled, rolling his eyes.

Mickey wiped at his face with the back of his hand. “You're tellin’ me.”

Their eyes met, both sets red and puffy and wet.

“I'll see you real soon, okay?”

Ian nodded. “Yeah. Just…” He trailed off, not knowing how to articulate what he wanted to say. 

But the look on his face was all Mickey needed. He nodded. “Yeah.” He smiled sadly and waved, and Ian did the same.

He turned and walked out the door, trotting his way to the sidewalk and away from the Gallagher house, what he now considered home, and away from his family. He knew if he walked any slower that he'd turn back. He had to keep reminding himself that this was their best option. This way, Ian could stay with his siblings and they could still be together, at least partly. Mickey could still be with his family this way, even if it was through bars or plexiglass. He could watch his son grow up, Franny, too. It seemed like Mickey had finally found himself a real family, and he knew he couldn't throw that away. He made his mistake, and now he had to pay for it. But he wouldn't let Ian pay for it, too.

Mickey stood on the steps of the police station and blew out a deep breath. He straightened up and walked inside with his head held high. Because regardless of everything else, he was a Milkovich, goddamn it, and though the Milkoviches didn't have much, they had courage.

He walked right up to the desk, where the officer looked at him with one eyebrow lowered, as if he knew Mickey was familiar, and was trying to recognize him.

“How can I help you today?” He asked.

“My name is Mikhailo Milkovich,” Mickey said firmly. “I think you guys are looking for me.”

****

“How long?”

Mickey sighed. He remembered Ian saying those exact words to him six years ago, the first of many times he'd come to visit him in juvie. “Three years added to the fifteen makes eighteen.”

“Thank god it was only three and not seven.”

“You get credit for that,” Mickey smiled. “You’re the one that convinced me to turn myself in.”

“Yeah, I guess they put a lot of stock in the whole ‘taking responsibility for your own actions’ thing. So eighteen…”

“Minus the year and I half I already served brings it to sixteen and a half, three and a half off if I stay out of trouble brings it down to thirteen.”

Ian raised an eyebrow. “Thirteen's an easier number to swallow than eighteen.”

“You’re damn right. Maybe could even bring it down to eight or nine with overcrowding.”

“Don’t get my hopes up.”

“I’m walking the straight and narrow, Ian. Whatever it takes to get me back to you guys, I’m doing it.”

Ian smiled. “I know. We miss you.”

“It’s only been three months.”

“A long three fucking months.”

“How have you been? Considering.”

“I’m doing good,” Ian nodded. “I haven’t slipped at all with my meds. I get down sometimes, but it’s a normal down. Taking you being in here into consideration, I’ve been great. I thought I was gonna fall hard when you left, but it wasn’t too bad.”

Mickey nodded. “That’s good. What about everyone else? Debs, Franny, Fi? What about Lip and Carl? Carl still doing good in school?”

Ian nodded. “Real good. He’s a candidate for TA next year. He’s getting A’s, Mick. Carl! A’s!”

Mickey laughed.

“Lip moved in with that Sierra girl from the diner. Debs got her GED. Franny’s walking.”

Mickey’s eyes clouded. “I wish I could’ve been there.”

“Iggy comes around a lot. Colin, not as often, But Iggy stops by at least twice a week. Franny really loves him.”

“That’s cuz they got that same IQ.”

Ian snorted. “What about you? How are you doing?”

Mickey tilted his head. “Okay. Keeping to myself, mostly. They wanna put me in some vocational training, but I don’t know what courses I’m even interested in. They don’t have a class on running massage parlors that cover your prostitution ring.”

Ian giggled, and it made Mickey’s face light up. He didn’t get to hear that very often anymore, so he savored the moments when he did.

“You’ll figure it out. You should start reading.”

“Fuck off,” Mickey threw at him halfheartedly, and Ian snickered.

The boys fell silent for a moment, and Ian toyed with the cord on his phone.

“Why does it always come back to this?”

“Hmm?”

“Us and phones,” Mickey explained, nodding toward the cord Ian was twirling. “It’s like our lifeline.”

“Sometimes, it is.”

“I’m getting kind of sick of it.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I hate that we need phones all the time. We rarely get an extended period of time where we can just _be_. I’m looking forward to when we don’t need phones to speak to each other.”

“Yeah,” Ian agreed, nodding, “Me, too.”

“Promise me something, Ian.”

“Anything.”

“It seems like our whole relationship, we’ve had to focus on ‘next time’. Next time we can fuck, next time we have the store to ourselves, next time one of us gets out of juvie or the psych ward or military prison, next time we can talk on the phone. I’m so sick of having to think ahead to next time. I don’t want to anymore. I want us to be together for good. Promise me that after this shit gets cleared up, we won’t ever have to look to next time. No more ‘next time’s,” He demanded, shaking his head.

Ian frowned at Mickey’s words. He nodded. “Of course, Mick. I promise.”

Mickey smiled softly, and the alarm sounded, signaling to the prisoners to wrap it up.

“That’s my cue,” Mickey sighed.

“I’ll be back in a few days.”

“I’ll be here,” Mickey joked, and Ian snickered.

“I love you, Mick.”

“I love you, too.”

They boys hung up their phones and smiled at each other through the glass. Mickey brought his hand to his mouth and kissed it, then set it against the glass for just a second. Ian smiled, and did the same, which made Mickey grin.

Ian nodded at him one last time before turning and walking away.

****

Ian sat. tapping his foot impatiently.

“How long are they gonna make us wait?” He huffed, and Fiona rolled her eyes.

“He’s gotta be searched and shit, calm down.”

Ian blew out a breath through his nose and ran a nervous hand through his hair. Fi reached out and grabbed his other hand.

“How long has it been?”

Ian frowned. “562 days. Feels like forever.”

Fiona rolled her eyes. “You see him _every_ week.”

“Several times a week,” Svetlana added, bouncing the now three-year-old on her knee. “You see him more than anyone else.”

“Yeah, but always in the plastic booths. This is different. This is -”

A buzzer cut off Ian’s next words, signaling that the door was unlocked. A guard opened the door to the visiting room, and stepped inside, escorting a single prisoner.

Mickey smiled when he saw Svetlana and Yevgeny, and it widened when he noticed Fiona sitting with them.

Then he set his eyes on Ian, and his smile fell. Worry flashed across Ian’s face for just a second, but it went as quickly as it came.

Mickey walked forward slowly, and when he was just a few feet away from Ian, he raised a hand cautiously, hovering his fingertips a few inches away from Ian’s chest, like he was afraid Ian was a mirage.

“Ian?” He asked, breathless.

Ian leaned forward until Mickey’s fingertips were on his chest. “It’s me,” He said, nodding.

Mickey sighed at the warmth against his hand. He leaned in and hugged Ian tightly, the first time he’d touched his boyfriend since he came back to jail, almost two years ago. Ian hugged him back, smiling against his neck. He held on for a long moment, grateful for the parole board for allowing him the luxury of open visits.

“Keep it casual,” The guard warned when the boys didn’t separate for a moment, and Mickey immediately unwound his arms and stepped away, smiling.

“Sorry, Travis,” He said to the guard, who nodded and turned his eyes back to the magazine he’d picked up.

“Wow,” Ian joked, “I never thought I’d see the day where a Milkovich apologized to a prison guard. I guess things really _have_ changed.”

Mickey flipped Ian off and moved to give Fiona and Svetlana their own (considerably less emotional) hugs, adding a kiss for Svetlana, and ruffling Yevgeny’s hair.

“What’s up, Yev?” He asked, sitting down next to Ian. The boy nearly flew from Svetlana’s arms, climbing into Mickey’s lap and wrapping his arms around his neck.

“Daddy!” He squealed, and Mickey gave him a tight hug and a kiss on the temple.

“Hey, buddy,” He chuckled as the boy settled onto his lap. “How’s my little man? You going to school yet?”

“Daycare, with Amy and Gemma,” Svetlana supplied the answer to Mickey’s question.

“You watch over those girls? Make sure they’re safe?”

Yev nodded enthusiastically.

“Good boy,” Mickey said with a smile, kissing the boy’s head.

“How are things going?” Fiona asked, and in spite of himself, Mickey smiled.

“They’re actually okay. I’ve been doing really well, keeping out of trouble. I spend a lot of time in the library.”

Ian smirked.

“Not _reading_ you smug asshole,” Mickey barked at Ian, who laughed, “I just like the quiet.”

“How’s the job training thing going? Decide on anything yet?

“I enrolled in the metalworking and an auto course. I haven’t been in them long, but I like ‘em both so far,” Mickey explained. He slid his hand over the table as he spoke, linking his fingers with Ian’s nonchalantly. Ian smiled at their joined hands. Mickey had come a long way from the scared closeted boy Ian had started fucking all those years ago.

“You know the rules, Milkovich,” The guard called over to them, peeking over his magazine.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Travis, come on. There’s nobody else here,” Mickey reasoned, motioning to the otherwise-empty room, “And we’ve been apart for almost two whole years. Let me have this one, please? I _promise_ you, he’s not trying to slip me contraband. You see this?” He asked, nodding toward the girls and Yev, “This is my family. I actually have a life waiting for me outside, and I’m trying to get back to it as soon as I can. I’m not that stupid.”

The guard narrowed his eyes, but after a few seconds of glaring, he went back to his magazine.

“I miss you, Mick,” Ian said softly, and Mickey rubbed a circle in the back of his hand to soothe him.

“Me, too. But we're doin’ okay, right? No breakdowns on either end yet, so I'd say we're ahead of the curve.”

Ian chuckled, sitting back and listening to Mickey and Svet hammer out divorce details.

“What does this mean?” Yev asked.

“It just means that momma and daddy aren't gonna be married anymore,” Fiona answered the boy. “They still like each other-”

“As much as they ever did,” Ian muttered under his breath, and Fiona kicked him in the shin.

“Ow, you motherfucker!” Ian groaned, and Mickey winked at Fi.

“And more importantly, they still love you. But daddy’s in love with Ian and mama loves V, so they're splitting up. But do you know what this means, Yev?”

The boy shook his head.

“It means you get an even bigger family, and that means lots more people to take care of you and who love you.”

“And it means lots more presents on Christmas,” Ian stage-whispered to the boy.

“This time, I kick him,” Svetlana warned, and Ian twisted on his stool so that his legs were angled away from Svet and the dangerously pointy heels she was wearing.

“Okay!” Yev said happily and went back to tracing the tattoos on Mickey's hands.

“You know, when he starts reading, he’s gonna ask you what those mean,” Ian taunted his boyfriend.

“You _wanna_ get kicked again, is that it?”

Ian snickered into his elbow.

****

“It’s great. I love it,” Mickey said with an awestruck smile as Ian swiped through the pictures he’d taken to show Mickey. “I’m happy for you.”

Ian rolled his eyes and groaned dramatically. “ _Us_! Not me, _us_!”

Mickey rolled his eyes, too. “Fine, _us_. Though I won’t step foot in _our_ apartment for another six years at least.”

Ian frowned. “Not the point. The point is that we have our own place. This is a big step for us.”

Mickey smiled. “You’re right. I’m sorry for raining on your parade.”

Ian smirked, and the buzzer sounded. He rolled his eyes. “Gotta go. I'm gonna go home and measure for curtains,” He thought aloud.

“No fucking curtains! Please, they’re so faggy! Anything else, but can we _please_ just leave the fucking blinds alone? Please?”

Ian frowned, then smirked. “Fine, then I’m decking the entire bathroom out in leopard print.”

Mickey groaned in disgust, then glared at Ian through the glass. Ian smiled triumphantly.

“Fine, get your fucking curtains,” He growled.

Ian chuckled devilishly. “I love you!”

Mickey raised half of his upper lip, sneering at the boy on the other side of the glass.

“Hey, so Lip and I have been doing some research. We’re gonna put together an application for commutation.”

“For what?”

“Commutation. It’s basically a petition before a judge for a reduced sentence. We’re basing yours on your initiative in turning yourself in, and how good your behavior’s been. Lip and I are working on it.”

“Think it’ll work?”

“Couldn’t hurt,” Ian shrugged. “Worst case scenario, you get denied and we submit it again next year.”

“Fuck yeah, man. Do it up. I’m up for anything that gets me out faster.”

Ian checked the time on his phone. “Hey, I gotta go get Debs and Franny. Then I think I’m gonna go curtain shopping,” He teased, and Mickey narrowed his eyes.

“I love you.”

“Luh ya too,” Mickey mumbled before hanging up his phone. Ian kissed his hand and set it on the glass, and Mickey did the same, finally cracking a smile.

****

“Did you get it?”

“It was finished this morning. V and I picked it up.”

“Did you look at it?” Mickey asked nervously.

“Yes,” Svetlana answered, her voice neither happy nor annoyed. He was irritated that she hid her emotions so well. It had to have been the accent.

“Well?” Mickey asked, shaking his head. “Is it okay? Does it look good? Is it stupid?”

Svetlana laughed into the phone. “It is fine. Beautiful and shiny, just like orange boy,” She chuckled, and Mickey did the same.

“What about inside?”

“Is nice. Good font, easy to read. V almost cried.”

Mickey sighed in relief. “Thank you for doin’ this for me, Svet. Thank V, too.”

“What do you want me to do with it if he says no?”

Mickey frowned. “Do you think he's gonna say no?”

“No,” Svetlana answered simply. “Pretty sure he says yes.”

Mickey couldn't help it; he smiled. “If he says no, sell it and get Yev something real nice to open Christmas morning, and put my name on it.”

Svetlana was silent for a second, which terrified Mickey. She was most dangerous when she was silent. “He says yes. Trust me about these things.”

“Milkovich, visiting time!”

“I gotta run, Svet. Thanks again. I owe you one.”

“Let me officiate.”

Mickey laughed. “I'll think about it. I gotta go. Give the little man kisses for me.”

“Every day. Love you.”

“Love you,” Mickey answered before hanging up the phone and following the guard to the visiting room.

As always, he and Ian recapped quickly, Ian having much more to tell than Mickey. Mickey sat and listened dutifully as Ian recapped everyone’s lives since he last saw Mickey. Mickey smiled the more he spoke, the butterflies in his stomach flapping their wings at a thousand miles an hour. He waited for a break in the conversation to make his move.

“Hey, how long we been together?”

Ian furrowed his eyebrows at the so very out-of-the-blue question. “Together like acknowledging our relationship, or together like sleeping together?” Ian asked with a smirk.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “How long we been bangin’?”

Ian turned his eyes skyward as he thought “I was what, fifteen? So nine years?” He asked more than stated, “I'm pretty sure.”

“That's a long time,” Mickey noted with a nod, licking his bottom lip.

“Yeah,” Ian smiled.

“Listen, when I get outta here, I'm gonna make an honest man outta you.”

“You what?” Ian asked with a chuckle.

Mickey shrugged. “It's legal now, ain't it?”

Ian lowered his eyebrows as he tried to decipher what Mickey was saying, and it took him an embarrassingly long time. When the cogs finally meshed, he sat up straight, eyes locking on Mickey's. Mickey looked slightly nervous, but mostly content, his mouth tipping into the gentlest of smiles at the corners. Ian snickered. “You're not serious,” He said with a shake of his head.

“You think I'm fucking with you?” Mickey asked, raising his eyebrows.

Ian paused. “No, I just don't…” He trailed off, not exactly sure what he was gonna say.

Mickey's eyebrows lowered, and Ian blew out a discreet breath. You could always tell how offended or pissed Mickey was by how high his eyebrows were raised. Ian was relieved when they returned to a normal height.

Mickey smiled. “Don't worry about it, man.”

Ian frowned, but Mickey waved it away, so he dropped it.

“Hey, how's the application for commutation going?”

Ian's face lit up. “Really good. Lip’s got some of his pre-law friends working on it. They say it's almost guaranteed approval.”

Mickey smiled cautiously. “Keep your fingers crossed for me.”

“We all are.”

They sat and talked for another fifteen minutes before the alarm sounded that signaled their visit was over.

Ian groaned. “I hate that fucking noise.”

“At least it's not your alarm clock.”

Ian chuckled. “When you're right, you're right. I guess I gotta ski-daddle.”

“Yeah. Who’s all coming next week?”

“Debs and Franny, for sure. Carl if he gets an early enough train. Fi’s got her Christmas party at work, and Lip won't be home till Friday. Haven't gotten a chance to ask Svet just yet.”

“Speaking of Svet, go see her when you get home.”

Ian cocked an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Just do it,” Mickey demanded, and Ian held his hands up.

“Okay.”

“Hey, and tell Debs I want a picture of Franny in her Christmas dress!”

“Yes, sir,” Ian said with a smile, always amused with how domesticated Mickey seemed to be these days. “I'll see ya. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Mickey hung up his phone, and Ian did the same. As if rehearsed, both boys kissed their fingertips and set them against the glass at the same time, sharing a smile, too. Mickey winked at Ian, then stood and walked out of the room with everyone else who had visitors that day.

Ian watched him go, thinking that even in an orange jumpsuit, Mickey's ass was immaculate.

He left the prison and headed for the L.

****

“What's up, handsome?”

“Hey, V,” Ian said, stepping inside the house to get out of the snow. Yevgeny and Gemma ran up to him, each hugging a leg.

“Ian!” A chorus of voices rang out, though Ian seemed to be missing a toddler.

“Where’s Amy?” He asked.

“Time-out,” Kev answered, walking downstairs nursing a bloody nose. “She’s started throwing things.”

Ian chuckled, then looked around the living room. “Hey, is Svet here? Mickey told me to come see her.

Identical shit-eating grins stretched over Kev’s and V’s faces. “She’s upstairs,” V instructed.

Ian nodded, his eyes wide. He unlocked the children from around his legs and started up the spiral staircase, finding Svetlana gathering dirty clothes in the twins’ room.

He knocked on the door jamb. “Hey, Svet.”

Svetlana smiled softly. “I know why you are here,” She said knowingly, dropping the hamper and passing him on her way to the master bedroom. She pulled a small box from a drawer, holding it out to Ian.

“For you,” She said simply. Ian took the box, and opened it, tipping a smaller, black velvet jewelry box into his hand. “From Mickey,” She clarified.

Ian furrowed his brow in confusion and opened the box.

Inside was a [simple black satin band with a small blue stripe](http://weddbook.com/media/2379937/mens-gunmetal-wedding-band-tungsten-carbide-brushed-pipe-cut-blue-black-annivarsary-ring-all-sizes-custom-laser-engraved). Ian’s jaw dropped when he realized what it was. An engagement ring.

“Svet, wha-”

“There’s an engraving,” She said simply before brushing past him and back towards the twins’ room. Ian chuckled softly, taking the band out of the box and looking for the engraving stamped on the inside of the ring.

 _I’m serious_.

Ian’s breathing got short, like he couldn’t get his lungs to expand. The ring felt good in his hand. He slipped it on his ring finger, smiling when it fit snugly. It looked perfect, dark and bold, and the stripe was the same color as Mickey’s eyes.

Ian turned and ran down the hall, skidding down the stairs and bolting out the door without a good-bye to anyone. Svet grinned at V as they stared after him.

“I knew he would say yes,” She said smugly.

****

Ian paced the length of the living room, his phone held tightly in his hand. His entire body was shaking with anticipation.

His phone finally rang, and Ian had it answered in less than a second, biting his nails as he listened to the stupid recording telling him that this call was coming from an inmate at the Metropolitan Correctional Center, yadda yadda yadda.

Finally that recording ended, and Ian was patched through to Mickey.

“Hey.”

“Yes!” Ian nearly yelled. He took a deep breath to calm himself. His stomach was twisting and he felt like a 16-year-old girl. “Yes, Mickey,” He said again, significantly quieter.

Mickey breathed out a sigh of relief. “Really?”

“Of course. I didn’t think you were serious.”

“Why would I not be serious, Ian? We’ve been together almost a decade, and I’m pretty sure we’ve established that neither of us have any intention of leaving the other anytime soon. I’m getting older and I’m starting to realize what matters to me. Family matters. I’ve been calling you Gallaghers family for a long time, so I figured it’s about time I made it official. Will you marry me, Ian?”

Ian smiled, happy tears welling in his eyes. “Of course, Mickey. I’d love nothing more.”

Mickey sighed. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

“The ring is perfect, Mick. Did Svet pick it out?”

Mickey made an offended noise. “ _No_. We picked it out together. I knew I wanted yours to have blue on it somewhere.”

“Like your eyes,” Ian said dreamily, not caring how gay he sounded.

Mickey cleared his throat nervously. “Svet’s got mine. It's the same design, except it’s [red](http://weddbook.com/media/2374771/black-tungsten-ring-red-men-tungsten-rings-red-wedding-bands-red-mens-wedding-band-red-men-wedding-band-red-men-women-ring).”

Ian chuckled in realization. “Like my hair?” He asked.

“Is that sappy?” Mickey answered Ian's question with another question.

“No,” Ian answered. “It's perfect.”

****

“Hey, Travis,” Fiona said sweetly, waving to the guard that watched over the visitation room. Travis held his hand out for the plate of cookies she held. She smiled and handed it over.

“How are you beautiful ladies today?” He asked, lifting the plastic wrap and grabbing a cookie.

“I’m doing well,” Ian joked, examining his fingernails.

“She’s gettin’ big,” The guard observed, nodding toward Franny.

Debbie beamed. “She’s gonna be four in a few months. Can you say ‘hi’ to Travis?” She asked the child on her lap. Franny smiled a gap-toothed smile at the guard, waving her hand furiously. Travis smiled and waved back.

The door opened and Mickey shuffled through, looking morose. Ian’s heart fell at the look on his face. He knew he wasn’t technically supposed to, but Travis was cool, and since he knew he wouldn't give him too hard of a time, Ian ran over to Mickey, hugging him warmly.

“Declined?”

Mickey sighed into Ian’s shoulder. “Declined.”

Debbie and Fiona frowned.

Ian pulled out of the hug. “We can submit it again next year. And if that doesn’t work, the year after that. We’ll get this, Mick. I promise.”

Mickey sighed and sat down, reaching for Franny. “ _Solnishko_ ,” He said, hugging her warmly, and Franny giggled upon hearing her pet name.

Fiona bit her lip, thinking. “Hey, Travis!” She called, and the security guard walked over to the table where the lone visitation was held, another cookie in his hand.

“Yeah?”

“Do you have any advice for getting a commutation plea granted?”

Travis looked around, though the room was empty. “I can’t give out any information to inmates. However,” He drawled, lowering his voice and turning his back to Mickey, “I can tell _you_ as a civilian that a hearing in person in front of a jury is always the better option as opposed to just putting it on the ballot at a board meeting. Half the time, the board doesn’t even read the petition, and a good petition can make or break your case. If there’s a judge that knows the inmate personally, try to get it in their hands. Bring as big of an audience as you can. Show the judge and jury that there’s people in his corner. And _he_ ,” He said, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder to Mickey, “Needs to plead his case to the judge directly. He’ll read through his record and his petition, and the petition is helpful, but what really sells it is the plea. If he just goes and stands before a judge, they’ll throw it out. But if he gets up there in front of the jury and explains why he should be released, his chances of it being granted multiply tenfold. He can get it approved, he’s just gotta put in the effort.”

Everyone nodded vigorously, taking mental notes on everything Travis had told them.

The guard walked away, and Ian lowered his head. “Lip and I will start revising as soon as we can.”

“We’ll get Svetlana and Yevgeny in here with us,” Fiona offered.

“V and Kev, too,” Debbie added, nodding, “The judge sees the way Yev and Franny adore you, he’ll cave in a second.”

Mickey sat and listened to his family planning. He had never felt his heart so warm. It touched him to know how much they all cared. He’d never had a family like this before.

****

“Mikhailo Milkovich,” Judge Brooks sighed, looking at the name written on the (rather large) file on her bench. She picked it up and bobbed her hand. “Been a while since I’ve had my hands on your file. It feels… familiar,” She said sarcastically.

Mickey blushed. “I do so enjoy our time together, Your Honor.”

The judge looked over her glasses at Mickey, but her lips were upturned slightly.

“Commutation, eh?” She asked, eyes scanning the petition that Ian and Lip had spent countless hours pulling their hair out over.

“Yes, Your Honor,” Mickey answered, swallowing the lump in his throat. Judge Brooks had always intimidated him just a little.

She turned toward the small jury. “In the interest of impartiality, I’d like to inform the jury that I have known mister Milkovich for several years. I have presided over most of his legal cases, and he had stood in front of me awaiting sentencing sixteen times in his 27 years.”

A look of disgusted astonishment fell on the jury.

“ _Seventeen_ now, Your Honor.”

Ian let a breath out through his nose and squeezed his eyes shut, a feeling that was pretty universal through the crowd that had gathered behind him.

But the judge chuckled. “And in all those years, I have known him to be rude,” She said harshly, turning back toward Mickey, who started sweating, “Defiant, reckless, selfish, with a flagrant disregard for anyone's safety or feelings but his own, and truth be told, to be a little bit of a smartass, which apparently, he has not lost,” She said accusingly, smirking down at Mickey, who fought to repress a smile. Judge Brooks was a mean old bird, but she was down to Earth and knew when to take herself too seriously.

Ian reached for Fiona’s hand, squeezing it tightly.

“However, I would also like to go on record as saying that I have seen a vast improvement in his attitude and behavior the last few times I’ve seen him. While still a smartass,” She said with a smile, “He seems to be calmer, more mellow, and less of a danger to others. If I may ask, _and I may_ , what brought about this change in you?”

Mickey glanced over his shoulder to Ian, then turned back toward the bench. “You see that redhead over there with the toddler in his lap?”

Judge Brooks’ eyes landed on Ian, who blushed.

“His name is Ian Gallagher. He did. He’s made me a better person.”

Ian’s blush deepened.

The judge turned back to Mickey. “I see. This is quite a crowd you’ve gathered today,” She noted, motioning to the filled seats behind him. “Surely they’re not _all_ here today in your defense?”

“Yes, they are, You Honor.”

The judge let her wall down for just a second, surprise crossing her face. “None of them are here to oppose your release?”

“No, ma’am,” Mickey said with a smile. “The brunette on the end is Svetlana,” He explained, going down the line of his supporters, “She’s my ex-wife and the mother of my child. The woman next to Svet is Veronica, she’s Svetlana’s wife. Next to her is Kevin, their mutual boyfriend.”

“I’m sorry, their what?” Judge Brooks asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“We are throuple,” Svetlana spoke up, “Live in same house, sleep in same bed, help raise each other’s children, have sex together, all three of us,” She clarified.

Ian, Lip and Kev all had to bite their tongues to keep from laughing. Debbie’s eyes widened, and Fiona and V both turned and looked at Svetana in disbelief that she just said that in front of a judge. Mickey shook his head and chuckled to himself. Svetlana, however, looked quite pleased with herself.

“Oh,” The judge said, at a loss for words, “Okay. Mister Milkovich, please continue.”

“Gladly,” He said with a smile. “Next to Kev is Fiona, she’s the oldest Gallagher. Then the rest are all Gallaghers, as well: the younger redhead is Debbie, and her daughter Franny. Phillip is on the end, with his brother, Liam beside him. Ian’s the one in the middle, and the blonde boy in his lap is my son, Yevgeny. Ian is Yevgeny’s godfather.”

Ian smiled. Hearing that never failed to make his heart flutter.

Mickey looked over the confusing array of people he’d gathered behind him. Any sane person would need a Venn Diagram to keep them all straight. He smiled at them, keeping the smile in place as he turned back to the judge. “This is my family. A family I’m very eager to get home to. There’s another Gallagher, a younger kid named Carl that unfortunately couldn’t be here. He’s away at military academy at the moment. And I have two brothers, Colin and Iggy that are both working right now, but I assure you, they’re supporting me from afar.”

The judge’s eyes widened. “‘Iggy’ as in Igor Milkovich?”

 _Uh-oh_ , Mickey thought. He knew Iggy was well-known within the Chicago criminal system, but apparently he didn’t know exactly how well-known.. “Uh, yes, Your Honor.”

Judge Brooks shuddered. “I haven’t heard that name in years. Has nobody set him on fire yet?”

Mickey cracked a smile. “No, ma’am. He’s working construction now. It’s been awhile since he’s acted out.”

“You mean it’s been awhile since he was caught,” The judge said, peeking over her glasses, and Mickey blushed. The judge turned her eyes back to the file in her hand. “A reduced sentence is your goal, huh?” She set the file down. “Plead your case.”

Mickey’s throat tightened. “Um, if you’ll read through the petition, you’ll see-”

“I’ve read the petition, cover to cover, and while it’s very well-written, I think we’ve spent enough time together for me to know that this is not your doing. Who prepared this file?” She asked, looking out to the people in the seats.

Lip stood hesitantly. “I did, Your Honor. Ian and I put it together.”

“It’s nearly flawless. I highly recommend a future in law for either of you. You’re both very good at talking out your asses.”

“Thank you,” Lip said with a smile before sitting back down.

“Now, mister Milkovich, I want to hear, in your words, why you want me to consider a commutation.”

Mickey’s lips parted and his brain raced. He took a deep breath, but nothing was clicking in his mind. He suddenly couldn’t remember why he wanted to get out. He knew that report top to bottom; Ian and Lip had beat it into his mind. He could recite it word for word just a few hours ago. But now he could barely remember his own name.

“Mister Milkovich?”

Mickey furrowed his eyebrows. “Yes. Well, you see, I, uh… I…” Mickey stuttered.

“ _What are you doing, Mickey? Say something_!” Ian whispered, digging his hands into Fiona’s arm.

Mickey turned to look over his shoulder, his eyes immediately meeting Ian’s.

“Come on, Mick,” Ian said softly, nodding.

Like a snowglobe settling, Mickey’s mind cleared, and suddenly he remembered the _exact_ reason he needed to get back home. He was looking right at it. He turned back to the bench.

“I’ve been with Ian since I was seventeen, and I’ve put him through a lot of shit. We had to keep our relationship a secret for more than two years, for fear of my abusive father. Ian’s gotten his ass kicked on more than one occasion because of me. I owe him a lot. He’s the one that convinced me to turn myself in. He’s put a lot of his life on hold for me, and I’m just trying to make sure he doesn’t miss out on anything else. And it’s not just Ian. My whole family is sitting behind me, and they’re all waiting for me to get home to them. The little boy on Ian’s lap?” Mickey looked over his shoulder.

“Daddy!” Yevgeny squealed, smiling at his father.

Mickey waved at the boy and turned back around. “That’s my son, Yevgeny. He’s gonna be six next year. I would love nothing more than to take him to his first day of kindergarten. Debbie’s daughter, Franny is four now. She’s starting to learn things. I don’t want her to know her uncle as an inmate for her whole life. Ian and I have our own apartment, and I’d love to see it in person,” He said with a smile. “I’ve missed promotions, graduations, first steps, first words. I’m gonna be frank with you, Your Honor; I’m a changed man. I know that I’ve made a mess of my life so far, but I’m ready to start over. I’m ready to buckle down and fix my life. Ready to build a future, get a second chance. I’m ready to start over with my fiancé.”

“Your _what_?”

“Fiancé?”

“What did he say?”

A chorus of confused exclamations came from the gallery of Gallaghers in the stands. Eight eyes turned toward Ian, who blushed fiercely and sank into himself.

“You didn’t tell them?” Mickey asked, and Ian smiled guiltily.

“You didn’t tell them, either!”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “All right, fair enough,” He shrugged. “Hey, Fi?”

Fiona turned her eyes from Ian to Mickey.

“I asked Ian to marry me.”

Fiona chuckled. “So I hear. _Good for you two_ ,” She said tensely, staring daggers at Ian.

Mickey laughed and turned his attention back to Judge Brooks, who was smiling despite herself. “And I would really love for him to not have to suffer through a 14-year long engagement because I’m stuck in here. You said you’ve seen a change in my demeanor over the last few years? It’s all because of Ian. He’s made me a better person, and I owe him so much, Your Honor. You’ve held my file in your hand more than any other correctional officer in the state. You know me better than any other judge or parole officer or prison guard I’ve ever spoken to. I want you to look real carefully at it. Does that look like the record of a Milkovich? I’ve shown nothing but exemplary behavior for the four years I’ve been incarcerated.”

Lip smiled proudly. Mickey didn’t even know what ‘exemplary’ meant until he’d explained it to him.

“I’ve completed two different vocational training courses, and I’ve been employed by the prison in their library for the past year and a half. The _only_ black mark you’ll find on that file was an incident that was caught on camera, and that I very clearly did not instigate.”

Ian frowned. He remembered that night, a little less than a year ago, being woken up by a call from the visitation guard, Travis. He had called Ian in secret, risking his job, to let him know that Mickey had been jumped that night, stabbed twice in the side. The man was someone in a gang that Terry had pissed off, and all they knew was that Mickey was a Milkovich, and that made him a target. Ian huffed at the memory. Terry had been in the ground for years and he still managed to fuck up Mickey’s life from beyond the grave.

“I am not the same Milkovich that stood before you at fifteen and flipped you off,” Mickey said, fighting a laugh. His only saving grace was that Judge Brooks laughed, too.

Ian closed his eyes and shook his head.

“I apologize, Your Honor,” Mickey said, clearing his throat with a shy smile. “Like I said, I have been working my ass off trying to get out of here as soon as I can. I promise you, Your Honor, if you give me this chance, you will _never_ see my face in front of this bench again. I am a changed man. I’m done with crime, I’m done breaking rules. I just want to start the next chapter of my life, and I want to start it as soon as possible. I’m ready to get out of this cell. I’m ready to get back to my family. And the ability to do that for me lies in your hands. So that’s my plea, Your Honor.”

A heavy silence fell over the room. Ian’s heart was beating so hard that his chest was aching.

The judge and jury all left for deliberation, and Mickey was helpless, unable to do anything but wait. He sat at his table and drummed his fingers against the wood impatiently. But he didn’t have to for long, because Judge Brooks and the jury was gone and back in less than five minutes. He stood, as did his cheering section.

“Mikhailo Milkovich, will you approach the bench?”

Mickey took a deep breath and walked up to the bench, his knees shaking.

“Mister Milkovich, you have been a pain in my ass for the past 27 years. But I have to admit, you’re steadily earning my respect.”

Mickey smiled up at her hopefully.

“I must say, this arrangement you have behind you is odd, to say the least. I never thought a Milkovich could drum up this many people who cared about them. But as you said, you are definitely a changed man, and it’s clear to me that the love you hold for your child, your partner and your family is unparallelled. Who am I to keep such a loving person from their family?”

Mickey bit his lip, hoping with every ounce of his soul that that wasn’t a rhetorical question.

“The jury and I have discussed it, and I am accepting your plea for a reduced sentence.”

Mickey blew out the breath he was holding, as did everyone behind him. That was a great start.

“Taking your behavior, good standing employment within the prison, effort displayed in bettering yourself through vocational training, and testimonials from yourself and your family members into consideration, I am hereby reducing the original sentence of eighteen years to five years.”

Mickey’s eyes slipped closed and his knees went weak. A wave of relief washed over him, stronger than he’d ever felt before. Behind him, his family whooped and cheered.

“With the 57 months you’ve already served, your tentative release date will fall in October. Congratulations,” Judge Brooks said with a sincere smile. She stood, then sat back down, taking off her glasses, “Oh, and off the record, if I _ever_ see you in this courtroom again, I will personally send you back to the infirmary. You have a good group of people in your corner. They obviously love you very much. Don’t disappoint them.”

“I promise you, I won’t.”

“Very well. I’m allowing you a special visit today, where the visitor limit will be waived, so your family can congratulate you properly. Court is adjourned,” She announced, banging her gavel, “And have a nice day.”

****

Ian stood with everyone, waiting as patiently as he could for Mickey to be escorted into the room. The buzzer signaling the door unlocking sounded, and Travis and Mickey stepped inside the room. Ian’s muscle memory took over, and he ran to Mickey, hugging him tightly and kissing him, really _kissing_ him for the first time in almost five years. Everyone else in the room fell away as they slid their tongues together, and in that moment, nothing else existed. It was just Ian and Mickey.

“Hey, that’s prohib- Oh, never mind,” Travis surrendered, rolling his eyes at the boys. It was no use. Even if he hadn’t given up, there was no prying to boys apart. Not right now. And not ever again.

****

Mickey walked of the towering building slowly, closing his eyes and sucking in a deep breath, the fresh air in his lungs sweeter than anything he’d ever tasted before. He looked to the parking lot, where he saw Ian waiting for him, leaning against a sleek black car he had never seen before.

Ian smiled when he saw Mickey approach. “Welcome to the outside,” He said with a wink.

“New whip?”

Ian shrugged. “Helps me meet guys. Want a ride?”

Mickey flipped him off and they got in the car, and instantly Ian’s mouth was on Mickey’s. “About that ride… Were you talking about the car or you?”

Ian pulled back and smirked. “Both.”

“ _God_ yes, but not here,” He breathed against Ian’s lips.

Ian sat back and pulled out of the parking lot, hand reaching out for Mickey’s, who took it and laced it with his own.

“This feels better than I ever thought it would,” Mickey confessed. “I thought a lot about you in there, Ian. It was all I could so to keep from busting out again just to be with you. I’m so happy,” He admitted, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Ian smiled and used their intertwined hands to wipe the water off Mickey’s face. Mickey kissed the back of Ian’s hand and looked out the window, watching the buildings whip past.

****

“Don’t you dare give me shit,” Mickey warned, panting.

Ian made a face beside him. “I know better. I don’t blame you for blowing so fast. Besides, I wasn’t too far behind.”

Mickey chuckled and lit up a cigarette.

“We’re not supposed to smoke inside the apartment.”

“Why did you rent a place where we couldn't smoke inside?”

“It's got a balcony for that exact reason! Come on," Ian pleaded, grabbing for the cigarette, "If the place smells like smoke, we won't get the security deposit back.”

“Fuck off,” Mickey said, twisting out of Ian's reach. “It’s my first night as a free man; I can have a smoke. Besides,” He added sheepishly, “I’m not a hundred percent sure I can walk right now; I think my knees might give out.”

Ian laughed proudly and sat back against the pillows, mimicking Mickey’s posture and taking the smoke from his mouth. He puffed on it and handed it back.

“You know your shit’s gonna be blowing up nonstop tomorrow,” Ian teased, and Mickey smiled.

“I literally cannot think of a better reason to be annoyed with my phone ringing. Fi’s gotta have a big thing planned, right? Like a ‘Welcome Home’ party. She’s so lame, she probably got a banner, too, huh?”

Ian ducked the question by turning his head.

“God, I missed this,” He sighed, and Mickey did the same.

“I’ve never been happier than I am right now,” Mickey said, laying a hand on Ian’s thigh.

Ian smiled. “Give it a second,” He said with a smirk, rolling over and diving into his nightstand. He returned with a small velvet box. Mickey’s face lit up when he recognized it.

“This is for you… fiancé,” Ian teased.

Mickey plucked the ring from the box and slid it on his finger. It was the same as Ian’s except where Ian’s was wrapped in a pale blue stripe, Mickey’s was candy apple red.

“Looks good,” Ian nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah, it does. Feels good, too. It feels right.”

“I’m so happy that you’re back,” Ian said softly, scooting over and nestling himself into Mickey’s side. Mickey’s arm came over to wrap around his shoulders. He kissed Ian’s forehead.

“I made you a promise, and I’m giving you my word. We’re building our life together from now on. What’s past is past.”

Ian nodded, reaching over to shut off the lights in their bedroom. Their bedroom in their apartment.

“I love you, Mickey. I always have.”

Mickey sighed. “I love you, too, Ian. I always will.”

**Author's Note:**

> I take requests and prompts! Let me know what you'd like to see [here](http://ieroween1031.tumblr.com/ask)!
> 
> Also, [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GPmj3BGV-24) is the song that Mickey sings. I apologize if the lyrics are wrong or anything; someone had transcribed them in the comments, so I just copied and pasted.


End file.
